In late 1986 a stiff new Scottish broom swept through the Old Trafford dressing room.

It didn’t take long for Alex Ferguson’s iron fist to send ripples through the bright red water of the Manchester Ship Canal.

He had good reason. The stretch of water ended at the home of his new nemesis – Liverpool FC.

Three miles away in my native Eccles (yes, we make cakes) there was natural scepticism about the new face at United as we languished second from bottom in the league.

Not since the glory days of Matt Busby had the people of Salford celebrated league success.

Fergie applied his trademark discipline, smashing a booze culture that was holding back stars such as Norman Whiteside, Paul McGrath and Bryan Robson.

Three weeks after his appointment, Ferguson’s mother died. It was tough for the hard man born in his granny’s Glasgow flat. He drew on that steely resolve that made United the club it is today.

In his first season we finished 11th. But never in their wildest dreams could the people of Salford have foreseen the footballing revolution Fergie would preside over - eventually earning the right to call his stadium the Theatre of Dreams.

Fergie time was just beginning. 1987 saw major signings in the form of Steve Bruce, Viv Anderson, Brian McClair and Jim Leighton.

That year United finished second, nine points behind Liverpool. We were moving in.

We lost our way in 1988-89, even with the return of super striker Mark Hughes.

And I don’t know a single fan who is ready to talk about the 5-1 drubbing we suffered at the hands of our noisy neighbours during the 1989 to 1990 season.

A banner was unfurled in the terraces, reading “Three years of excuses and it’s still crap.. ta-ra Fergie.”

We were teetering on the brink of the relegation zone. The club had full confidence in its manager but the Scot was in big trouble.

The son of a Greater Manchester police officer got him out of jail. Mark Robins had no idea what he had done when he scored against Forest and saved Alex’s job after seven games without a win.

Thank God he survived. United went on to win the FA Cup which enabled Ferguson to focus on his masterplan.

In 1992, a young lad who lived close to me changed United forever. Ryan Wilson, from nearby Swinton, was about to enter the history books.

He later adopted his mother’s maiden name, Giggs. Need I go on?

Soon we were the first Premiership champions and Fergie was manager of the year. Roy arrived. This was our moment.

Then a project Ferguson had been working on unleashed hell on the footballing world.

Without spending a penny, he brought Gary Neville, his brother Phil, David Beckham, Paul Scholes and Nicky Butt on to the Old Trafford turf. They were ordinary lads. I once gave Beckham and Gary Neville a lift home from the cinema.

These stars of the future were vulnerable and Fergie knew it. He instilled discipline but I know some fell foul of the strict regime and came face to face with the infamous hairdryer. It did them no harm.

In 1999 it culminated in the impossible dream – the treble. I remember bristling pride when the side returned from the Camp Nou in an open-top bus with the European Cup. We lined the streets and saluted our heroes.

Manchester has seen plenty of hard times. Before him, Busby gave ordinary people something to believe in. Sir Alex Ferguson picked up the ball and took it to another level.

He is our longest serving manager – 26 years, 38 trophies. Boy, does David Moyes have big boots to fill...